


Affection

by Raven2547



Category: Common Law
Genre: 5+1 Things, Developing Relationship, M/M, Touching, Touchy-Feely, oblivious men, physical affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven2547/pseuds/Raven2547
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>major spoilers for episode 2. Five people who noticed how much the boys care for each other, and one time they noticed themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doctor Ryan

**Author's Note:**

> repost from original on ff.net

Emma arrived at the precinct maybe a minute after Travis pulled up, so she had been following him in when she'd heard him ask about her. She'd stood by the door and watched as Wes came up and leaned in far closer than a normal partner—even closer than some actual couples she had seen in public—and gave Travis a shoulder bump while seemingly casually sniffing his neck. She couldn't hear his words, but his wrinkled nose said it all.

Nobody in the precinct batted an eye at the closeness of the two, who even while arguing stood quite close together. They were probably used to it, she realized, because the boys hadn't yet noticed her and were acting normally and not trying to play the part of innocent, perfect partners. It was slightly odd, but they sat just as close to each other in group as the other couples did but had always maintained that they were not a couple.

The psychologist continued to watch as officers bustled around and Mike Sutton meandered over to the pair. His face also wrinkled up and Travis looked defensive when Wes uttered something most likely offensive. She quickly strolled over and greeted the two, only hearing the end of a conversation: "—shyness, Captain."

She greeted the enthusiastic captain and smiled encouragingly at the two awkward looking boys. Soon they were off to their squad car. This surprised her because Wes had just had a range rover the other day, she didn't ask about it though. When they got in, for the first time in her life she was in the back of a police vehicle, separated by the grating down the center of the car. The boys argued outside about who would drive, but ultimately Wes won like she had predicted. They joined her inside the vehicle and started on their way to the hotel.

The tightness of a car would have prohibited much physical contact between even married couples, Emma knew, and certainly between two self-proclaimed single men. Travis and Wes, however, continued to surprise her. As soon as they were on the freeway the boys were quiet for a few minutes while Travis's hand found its way to Wes's knee across the console. She didn't comment and neither did the blonde, which told her that it was a normal occurrence—though usually reserved for people of intimate nature. While they argued the hand never removed itself and Travis's thumb kept up a constant circling motion. The two might not even be aware of their actions, she noticed, as the silly argument required her to jump in to remind them that she was just observing.

Outside the hotel, Wes quickly handed her off to an unfortunate officer who had either entrusted him with his sleeping problems or, more likely, had been found out by the detective. She discussed with him the shooting and eventually moved away from him and back into the lobby where the guys were once again arguing. This time it was in front of a pretty girl, the desk girl it looked like. She looked uncomfortable and as Dr. Ryan neared them she picked up the conversation about Wes's failed marriage.

"Looks like I haven't missed a thing," she said pointedly, and both men turned around, halting the conversation. They continued on up to the victim's room five floors up. In the elevator Travis stood next to Wes and rubbed his arm from shoulder to elbow a few times, supposedly in apology. The blonde's stiff facial features relaxed minutely and he nudged the other back with his shoulder. Again, very odd for two supposedly unattached men.

In the poor girl's room the two quickly split up to different areas. Both put on gloves like it was second nature and started to rummage around. The conversation quickly devolved into another petty argument. She had a feeling this was their prime way of communicating during everyday situations and it was likely to continue throughout the day.

Emma watched as Wes went out onto the balcony, looking quite content up high, and then observed the scene on the ground. She followed Travis into the bathroom and watched from the doorway while he deduced that she was expecting somebody. It was all very fascinating how they came to these conclusions. When Wes did not respond to Travis's query, both of them looked out to the balcony. To her shock and mild horror, Wes was not there. Travis, though, was very near panic if his eyes and body language said anything. He sprinted to the glass door and looked around for his partner, when the man in question poked his head out from the floor below. From there the case got decidedly more difficult and gruesome, like something she'd see on CSI.

Their little group went back to the squad car and continued on to the dead girl's husband's home. Again, on the way there Travis's hand found Wes's knee and the banter continued back and forth. Once Wes said something a little more cutting than usual and followed it up with a squeeze to the hand resting on his knee to take the sting out of it. The ride was mostly uneventful past that except for a minor radio station war where both of them used only one hand, Travis used his right so as not to remove his other from Wes she noticed, and eventually they ended up on something both of them hated and consequently just turned on the police radar.

As they neared the house, she noticed Wes rolling her windows down automatically just enough to let some breeze in. She had a feeling she knew what was coming.

True to her prediction, Wes abandoned her in the car and she really couldn't blame him when they were going to tell a man his wife had been murdered. Wes said something to Travis on the steps that caused the darker one to give him a one armed hug about the waist. It would have been one thing to see a 'bro-hug' about the shoulders, but once more they were far more intimate than mere partners would be.

Minutes later, she was joined in the squad car by her two detectives and a man and woman. Conversation stopped entirely on the way to the station, but Travis's hand never left his partner's knee.

After the brief conversation with the man and wife, they were free to go. Dr. Ryan joined them in visiting the coroner's office, much to Travis's displeasure. They stood close together in the roomy elevator, something she still found odd of the two who acted as if they hated each other but touched as if they'd been together for years. She supposed they had, just not in the sense the touches usually meant.

Their banter turned from biting to teasing after she made a joke about cadavers. Wes thought Travis's disgust at dead bodies was greatly amusing considering his line of work and Travis thought Wes's fear of germs and antisocial tendencies were funny considering his line of work. Jonelle and Travis's feud was brutal; truly hostile while he and Wes's relationship was not. Emma noticed Travis's exasperated looks at Wes every time the blonde was nice to Jonelle, and also his 'how dare you look at him, much less speak to him' face whenever the butcher smiled and said something to Wes.

Very interesting indeed.

Back at the boys' desks, Wes approached with a cup of coffee but due to some officers walking in front of her she missed their brief conversation. When they passed her, she glanced at Wes coming around the desks to look at Travis's computer. As he got closer, Travis grabbed his waistband and tugged him so he almost spilled his coffee, earning a smack on the head. The brunette just laughed and shook the other's hip back and forth teasingly. She was astonished nobody in the precinct batted an eye at the incredibly personal touch between the two men.

"Damn, Princess, you sure are skinny. That new diet of 'anything green or bust' working out for you?"

"Working better than your '85 percent trans fat or bust' diet, I say." They were teasing each other again. They'd forgotten she was there once more, which was good. She wanted to see them in their natural setting.

Once they'd figured out where their identity thief lived, she was back in the squad car and Travis's hand was back on the knee.

The run down neighborhood looked like some questionable people lived there already, so she was not surprised (though very discomforted) to hear gunshots not a minute after they pulled up. She was quickly ushered back inside the patrol car and gladly stayed inside as the two detectives had a silent discussion about how to find the shooter.

The captain was correct that they had something special in the way of partnership—they communicated astonishingly well despite their differences. Soon she again had to share her backseat with a sweaty, overweight man who was heavily inebriated.

In the interrogation viewing room she had the perfect vantage point of seeing their partnership in action. Wes was very chivalrous in his actions to allow the man a lawyer. Most cops, like Travis, would insist on not offering and waiting until the subject asked for one. The man was a wreck and answered every question truthfully, then nakedly a few minutes later even though both detectives strongly encouraged him to keep his clothes on.

Mike tried to get some information out of her, but she reminded him of confidentiality to get him to go away. He imparted some last bit of wisdom about the boys before departing. She couldn't help but agree with his assessment of the partnership.

Back in the interrogation room, Wes walked around the table, behind Travis and towards the door. He patted the other on the shoulder, letting his hand drag down his back as he moved farther away. There had been no cause for it as far as she could tell; an affectionate touch just because was all that was going on. Wes didn't seem the type to involve himself in them, but Travis didn't respond in any way but slinging an arm out to check Wes's hip on his way out of the room.

In the bullpen, when Kenny had left, the two walked side by side (too closely) to their desks. They rounded a corner and the last few stairs while she watched and passed by the rival cop partners, Kate and Amy she supposed. The pairs greeted each other and talked for a moment or two, then the dark haired one grabbed her blonde friend and the two continued on with a last barb to the boys.

Travis and Wes both reacted differently: Travis laughed out loud while Wes just smiled slightly. Wes looked to where the girls headed off to and grabbed Travis, dramatically dragging him by his upper arm to their desks and muttering about work to be done.

To end the visit, she talked to Wes in the break room while he retrieved his fifth (at least) cup of coffee that day. Of all her patients, he was the most difficult to work with and he seemed to know it. He also seemed to enjoy it. She bid her farewells to the pair and the captain and headed out the door.

This entire day had shed a very bright and new light on the relationship between two men. She wondered in the back of her head if she should tell them what she had seen and risk shocking them both or just let it stew. Their faces when she told them would probably almost be worth it.


	2. Alex

Before they'd called her outside to see the raccoon, Alex had been watching from behind her curtains and listening to their whispered plan. The stun guns seemed a little overkill, but Wes was nothing if not efficient.

The two boys had huddled inside the bushes, where Wes had been waiting for nearly half an hour for his backup. He'd hooted or whistled or something ridiculous, like the raccoon would know it was being stalked. Maybe it was all men who were like this, like her mother had said, but Wes had never exhibited these slightly childish tendencies like arguing, rock paper scissors settlements, and scouting a raccoon like it was a military mission. Travis brought all of these things out of him. Maybe that was why she and Wes didn't work out. He couldn't have fun with her.

Regardless, Travis had totally just slapped Wes's ass after they caught that raccoon. The one time she'd pinched his tight little bottom he'd given her a look that would melt the polar icecaps, but he just turned and high-fived the black man. Her inner crazy that all girls had was getting a little riled up, so she shoved it down with a hefty dose of logic.

Travis was holding up his phone, was he going to take a picture of it? This was ridiculous. Oh wait, no. He was pointing it at himself, probably using that mirror app he had or something. He was wincing and rubbing at a spot underneath his jaw line on the upper part of his neck. Stepping closer, Wes actually voluntarily touched him and tilted his head back. She could hear them talking through the screen.

"How did you manage to get scratched? We didn't even go near the damn thing!"

"Stop touching it! It stings. Probably a thorn from the bush or something."

"I don't cultivate thorn bushes."

"They probably grew thorns just to be contrary to you, Princess. Will you just kiss it and make it better already?"

Surprisingly, Wes huffed, looked around quickly, and leaned in to give it a loud smack of a kiss that made Travis laugh and howl at once. It was a disturbing sound.

"Oh man Wes, I that's how you kiss all the ladies I don't know why you don't have a line outside your door!"

0000000000000000

After the first incident, she'd been watching their interactions more and more closely. She began to notice a pattern to Wes's visits. He came over when the two of them had had a fight or he was upset about something that usually involved Travis in one way or another.

She found him out back trying to fix the light. After an argument, Travis soon showed up and she went inside to observe as they talked. They shared some too softly spoken words while Wes slowly packed up his tools. The visit ended when the darker man took her ex's hand—he'd never let her hold his hand ever—and led him back out the gate to the waiting car.

Travis opened the passenger door and pushed Wes inside, getting in the driver's seat with minimal fuss from Wes. Then she could clearly see him put his hand on Wes's knee before driving off.

0000000000000

Miraculously, it had been almost a month since she'd seen hide or hair of Wes. She and Travis had had coffee the other day though and talked about some things. Things like how she'd noticed how handsy Travis and he were.

He'd laughed and accused her of being jealous. She'd been slipping her number into the bill folder for the waiter to have when he'd said this, which is how she'd ended up with coffee up her nose after she snorted.

When she got home from that encounter, she'd pulled out a photo album. After Wes had quit law she'd taken up scrapbooking for a short while to relieve some of the stress. There was an entire book dedicated to the police academy and then his rise to detective, and finally his partnership with Travis. Countless pictures of them together filled the second half of the book.

Her favorites included one where he'd actually gotten Wes to smile for the camera. Her ex-husband had never seemed to understand how photogenic he was and hated the device with a passion. They were outside the precinct, probably a week or so after they'd become partners. Travis was sitting on one of the stone banisters at the bottom of the stairs and Wes was standing there next to him, both with large smiles. Travis's arm was around his waist and hugging him close—if she weren't the one to take the picture, she'd have thought that they were a couple. If you looked really closely at the picture, you could see Wes's slightly blurry hand sitting on the back of Travis's neck. It was a cute picture.

Another one that should have opened her eyes to their interactions was one she had to sneak. Three years into their partnership and they were still really good friends, but Wes had never been one for cuddling or not sleeping in his own bed. Travis had come over for dinner—Wes had begged her to lie and tell him that she'd made the chicken parmesan—and then they'd sat on the couch to discuss their current case. They'd also had a very long, very tiring marathon of Monk on the television. She'd come back down the stairs at about 2:30 to ask about where they were to find Adrian in an alleyway filled with trash, blind and not caring, and her two favorite police officers passed out on the couch in a pile. It seemed like they'd had a fight about sleeping arrangements, though.

Travis's leg was trapped on the top part of the couch and his other leg was resting on the floor, bent at the knee. His entire upper body was sprawled over his end of the small three seat couch. Wes was in the same boat, only both of his legs were pushed up onto Travis's end and his feet were tucked under his partner's shoulders. She remembered having to leave the room to laugh in the kitchen and get the camera. Luckily the flash hadn't awoken them.

Alex sighed and shut the books. She couldn't think of a way to gently prod them in the right direction. If they had it their way, she knew, they'd spend the rest of their lives arguing and throwing each other through windows. It was probably foreplay to them, she snorted.

00000000000

A few weeks later she'd been called in to the hospital. Wes had told her that removing her from his contacts list was coming soon, right after buying a house. Alex knew she'd be on the back burner for a while until he was out of that hotel. Apparently Wes had been shot at and a couple bullets had grazed him. Nothing life threatening, they assured her in the lobby, but head wounds did tend to bleed a lot…

Two slightly deep grazes on his right arm, one on his side, and one across his temple. What the hell had they been doing in the middle of a barrage of bullets anyway? Alex came up on his hospital room and peered in the door before going in.

Wes was just lying on the bed looking more sour than normal, probably because Travis was currently flapping his arms everywhere and shouting partial sentences at him. Just as Alex was about to go in to stop the yelling, it cut itself off. She peeked back around the corner and saw a dozing Wes on the bed. His eyes were only halfway shut but it was clear he had already checked out. His partner had come to stand next to the hospital bed.

Travis glanced up and she had to duck behind the frame of the door so he wouldn't see her. When she looked back at him, he was running a hand through Wes's thin strands of hair, brushing them off of his forehead and then looping around his ear. His hand ended up holding the blonde's head steady at the base of his skull and top of his neck, splayed fingers on the back of his head and his thumb running over his jaw.

"I'll see you tomorrow, partner," he said quietly, then kissed Wes on the forehead as the blonde's eyes finally shut with an answer muttered so softly she couldn't hear it. Before Travis could back away from him, she was tip-toe prancing down the hall and around the corner with a big grin on her face.

Perhaps one of the two weren't oblivious after all.


	3. Dakota

Looking back at she and Peter's framed trees they drew in therapy—they put them up on the mantel next to their wedding picture and a photo of them outside the building they go to group at—she's surprised nobody asked her about who is underneath the tree. Two men, not her husband and herself, one with shining, sun yellow hair and another scribbled in with two layers, red then green because Peter was hogging the brown. They're holding hands (twigs? Is that what stick people had for limbs? It sounded like a sad existence) underneath her heart tree. It's adorable.

Anyway, nobody asked her about it. Either her stick people aren't legible enough or everyone else is hoping for the same conclusion as her picture entails. She's betting on the latter. The boys in question had left minutes before her drawing could be shown so they didn't get to ask about it.

Giggling to herself, Dakota grabs the car keys from Peter's hands and dances out the door. He yells after her and they playfully circle the car; she loves this game. They do it every time they go to couples counseling so she makes sure they leave at least 5 minutes early so she can get her playtime in.

00000000000

The young couple usually arrived a few minutes before the session to talk to Dr. Ryan or just to sit, but today they were pushing it and it looked like her favorite in-the-closet pair was also doing it. Of course, they walked in right as the clock struck the right time every time, but she was so giddy to see them outside therapy she almost squealed.

They were hanging outside the room in the hall. She shushed Peter and looked at his watch. Oops. Their clocks were wrong again! They were ten minutes late to the session. Her mother had sworn that damn 'atomic' clock was guaranteed to never be wrong but it had already caused Peter to be late to his doctor's appointment and now this.

On the bright side… Travis and Wes were also late. Dakota pushed Peter behind the wall partition and peeked out. They were totally snuggling outside that door. She was not misinterpreting their actions this time, oh no! Travis's arm was around Wes's waist and Wes's hand was on his shoulder pushing upwards… oh. They were looking in the tippy top door window. Sad day. Still, they were being pretty handsy.

Ha! Wes slipped and Travis touched his butt! She snorted and then had to hide when the blonde's complaining abruptly cut off at her noise and they looked around for her. She slapped a hand over Peter's face and mouthed at him, 'one… two… three' and they strolled out from behind the pillar giggling. They'd perfected the oblivious, non-diabolical couple routine a few months before they'd tied the knot.

When Dakota turned her head back to the detectives, Travis's hand was just sliding off of his partner's ass. Caught you in the act, buster, she thought. Could he have looked more disappointed to have to stop touching the guy? They were meant to be together. She had to convince them.

0000000000000000

That session was boring. Nobody except Rozelle had anything to say about that week and even Clyde and she's little fight wasn't anything interesting. Travis and Wes were getting along for once—therapy must've been working for them. They had absolutely nothing to say about their caseload, Alex, the Captain, each other… nothing. She tried to goad them into a fight but that ended in Dr. Ryan asking Peter about his mother. It was a bad session.

At least, it was until the last few minutes. In these minutes, she finally noticed what had been drawing her attention to the boys more than usual: they were sitting so close together that their thighs were touching. Touching thighs! Once she noticed she had to cover her squeal with a weird sounding attempt at a fake sneeze. Everyone looked at her like she was a freak.

"Sorry," Dakota mumbled, "something just tickled me wrong."

Apparently that was cue for Wes to have a sneeze marathon. Seriously? Nine sneezes with no break? What the hell?! Travis was just examining his nails and taking shots at Wes's back like he was coughing, not shooting brain matter all over the room like he actually was. This must be a regular thing. After he was done he pulled out his hand sanitizer and drenched his fingers with an annoyed look on his face.

"Sorry. It's like yawning to me."

"No joke, every time somebody sneezes around him he goes insane. It's weird as hell, but what about him isn't?"

And then the session was fun. They argued for a full two minutes before the doctor broke it up—a new record! How they got from yawning to dinging Wes's car door, she didn't know. Then the yoga class came in and they all had to disband.

000000000000

The next time she saw them was also a complete accident. The gas station on her way to work had the best jelly donuts, so she got one every Wednesday morning. It was weird to see them anywhere in her life besides the therapy group, so before she waved like a kid hyped on pixie sticks and coke she dove behind a sun glasses display shelf and peeked at them.

Obviously they were there for a case. They were talking to the pimply kid she always made her purchases from. Dakota decided she would just be loyal to her cashier and wait until he was done—not that she wanted to spy or anything.

When they were finally done, Travis finagled Wes into buying themselves drinks. She was surprised that both of them didn't get coffee, but the brunette got a weird energy drink that was probably more sugar than anything and Mr. Healthy got a massive pomegranate-cherry life water. So gross.

Travis thought the same thing, it looked like, "How the hell do you drink those nasty things?"

Looking offended (when didn't he?), Wes replied, "It's actually really good. I don't drink it because it's healthy for you. At least, that's not the only reason."

"Really? Let me try it, I will be the judge of if it is delectable or not," Travis said decisively. Dakota thought that germophobe Wes would surely ague or downright refuse to do it, but he handed over his bottle like it was a regular occurrence. They share drinks… Dakota had to stop herself from breathing creepily through her mouth like some sort of stalker.

Travis smacked his lips together in thought after his gulp and crinkled his face, and then took another, smaller drink.

"I can't decide if it's awful or not," and he looked so sad about that too, she giggled quietly. The kid mopping next to her gave her a startled look—she must be getting really stealthy!

"Ha. The judge is out of commission," Wes chortled to himself. It was such a weird sight that she nearly lost her eyes; they were so far bugged out of their sockets.

Travis didn't seem to think it was weird though, and shoved his partner's shoulder playfully. He makes Wes Mitchell, Ice King, laugh. They laugh together. Dakota squeezed her jelly donut's paper napkin to prevent herself from making some embarrassing noises. She looked back at the pair just as Wes righted himself and waited until the dark skinned man passed him. He then reached out and pulled on Travis's jacket, jerking it backwards and making him dribble some energy drink down his chin and shirt. Then he ran away with an angry detective screeching out after him.

000000000000

Oh yes. They were meant to be together, indeed.

Early by ten minutes this time, Peter waiting inside the group's room because she'd come from work, she saw them together in the hall again. They were eating some type of fast food, Travis shoving the giant, stuffed full thing in his mouth and chomping down while Wes took smaller, more polite bites. When they finished (and she finished getting comfortably hidden behind a pillar) they wiped their mouths off.

Nothing really out of the ordinary. Except Wes reached out with his finger and got some sour cream off of the corner of Travis's mouth. Then he licked it off the finger. Thing that were in Travis Marks's mouth—or dangerously near it, in this case—did not get put into Wesley Mitchell's mouth. It was an unwritten, universal law and she just saw an offense that deserved at least five years in a maximum security prison.

As if that wasn't enough to melt her brain, Travis then reached out and jiggled Wes by the belt, saying loudly, "Princess, I thought you were watching your weight!"

And thus, they descended into a fight about Wes's figure. Some things never changed, but she hoped she'd be able to witness, if not be a factor in, their relationship status.


	4. Phil Kronish

He and Travis had always touched a lot—even when they were both just rookies and not even partners. They had been the best of friends… or so Phil had thought. But Travis had tossed him aside like yesterday's morning paper and taken on that weird blonde guy who was so anal it made Phil's head hurt. Luckily, after he had transferred to Beverly Hills, Phil had found Morgan.

Ah, Morgan. If ever there were a more loyal man than he, then surely pigs must also fly. He was the best friend and most competent partner Phil could ever have asked for after the debacle of a break up that he and Travis had had.

Returning to LA had been both refreshing and terrible. Seeing all his old coworkers still in their old positions while he had moved up in the ranks was also a plus. It would have been great… if he hadn't seen Travis and Wes being all buddy-buddy. Oh, even when they'd first partnered up they'd been touchy-feely, but Phil had always thought that was Travis rubbing it in. Surprisingly, Phil learned (through the grapevine) that in the six years since his transfer had been approved they had never stopped touching. Even when they'd had to start going to couples therapy for their problems.

Seriously? Phil wasn't that bad of a partner that Wesley 'The Law' Mitchell was a better choice? Hells no. Phil was way better than that guy, just ask Morgan. Anyway, he was in charge now. Mitchell and Marks had to listen to him.

Walking into the bullpen, he saw them bumping shoulders and watched them make fun of a pair of cops—a woman and a man. The man had been on the news a few weeks ago leaking information about a murder. Brady was his name, Phil thought. Travis was saying something to Wes and had an arm around the blonde's shoulders. It looked like they were putting a conversation to the bodies. How rude.

Morgan and Phil walked up behind the duo just as Wes finished, "—oh yes, Brady, I already licked the Captain's boots. He will be sure to give us many cases now." And then they laughed again, Wes clapping Travis on the back. Why were they in couples' therapy, again? They seemed just as close and friendly with each other as before the split.

Morgan cleared his throat and the pair immediately parted from each other. Phil greeted them in the most civil way he thought was possible, considering the circumstances, while traitorous thoughts raced through his head (you cheated on me and then left me, you bastard). No. He had Morgan now. To prove this to himself, he instigated the victory handshake with his partner and smugly watched Travis try to get Wesley to do one with him. It was very funny—or it would have been had Wes only refused to do it. Instead, right as Phil and Morgan were leaving, Wes hip checked Travis and it was returned with a forgiving grin while the paler one sanitized his hands. Phil's detective side supplied him with Wes's background information—germophobe. The only reason he didn't want to do a handshake thing with Trav.

It all made him want to scream.

0000000000000000

Before the meeting in the conference room with the whole department, he and Morgan had decided that they were going to prove they were the bigger men by accepting all the help they could get and not be assholes—at least… that was the plan until Wes and Travis totally stole their thunder. How could they have missed the armored car thing? How? It was so simple… but not as simple as Wes's arm across the back of Travis's chair or the way that between the two of them there was only one glass of water being shared. Or how Phil's partner's hand was all over that blonde bimbo's leg.

(Ex. Ex-partner, Phil)

The D.A. put them on the case and suddenly Phil really didn't want to be the bigger man—that was Morgan's job any way. Unless Phil's feelings got hurt, which hells yeah they had. So his Travis 2.0 went and tried to plant a seed of discontent in the middle of the dynamic duo's partnership—but it didn't work out too well… and now Morgan's feelings were hurt too from Wes's bashing.

Time to turn those frowns upside down, though. When Wes and Travis were in the break-room Phil watched them for clues, even lip-reading as well as he could to try and get any leg up on them. All he got was two overly affectionate grown ass men almost play wrestling through the window. Damn. That blonde may be tiny, but he was a firecracker. Travis barely had him in a headlock as it was. And ass groping was really not a wrestling move, of that Phil was sure. Wes wasn't entirely sure, it looked like though, and didn't even bother removing Travis's hand until he twisted himself around and they both ended up on the floor laughing.

Phil grabbed the bag of incense off Sutton's desk and stomped away before he saw anything else.

00000000000000000

Sending the assholes to the chicken coop was Morgan's idea, to be honest. Add brilliant to his endearing and all together awesome traits. This happened right after he'd taken Travis out to their old hang-out. It was a nice little outdoor café where they used to always get lunch and dinner when they'd been partners still. It was originally planned to be a make-up party and full of apologies and genuine feelings.

Then the bitch mentioned Wesley 'Bain of Phil's Existence' Mitchell. For the first half hour they talked about Phil and Morgan's amazing meeting and bonding, but then it went off the rails and out of the redhead's control. Soon they were talking about awkward or hilarious cases they'd each been in and the topic of a gay bar and Wes and Travis pretending to be a couple and doing a very poor imitation of a pop it and lock it on a crowded dance floor came up. Travis had nailed an already pissed Wes in the back of the head and then they had to cuddle in the corner after a fake fight. For an hour and a half.

Travis didn't seem too broken up about it.

So they'd sent them to a chicken truck.

Hells yeah. Phil boned 'em good.

00000000000000000

To be honest, Phil had thought they'd try to bone him back. They had obviously cornered the guy and knew where he was going to strike—it had totally been their call and their arrest to make. But in the end they proved that they were the bigger men in this little battle he'd been unaware he was in the middle of and let Phil have a little glory.

Still, even the sweetness of a restored reputation , the glorious return to his wonderful home in BH, and a secret handshake with Travis left a bitter taste in his mouth at the sight of Wesley Mitchell hugging his (ex) partner and (ex) best friend with all the enthusiasm of a spouse while Phil wondered where in the hell Morgan was.

Well. Regardless of what everyone thought, he was not the Jonelle of Beverly Hills and he did not miss Mr. Marks. Morgan really was his best friend and he knew he wouldn't leave him.

Also, he was proud to admit, he wasn't bitter that Travis also had that person in his life. Even if it was a blonde bimbo.


	5. Captain Mike Sutton

Yin and Yang; Travis and Wes; Liz Taylor and Richard Burton. All of them hated the other, but could not survive without. The constant circle of banter and ribbing between the two might be construed as arguing by outsiders, but to the boys and everyone familiar with the two in the precinct it was the communication of an old married couple—long since inured to the horrors that were the other person.

Mike remembered when he had first laid eyes upon both boys together. They hadn't even been partners, not yet, but coworkers sharing lunch in the break-room. People around the station might say that the Chief wasn't always on par with the gossip or didn't know who was dating who (that incident with Randy and Travis and no paperwork was a one-time thing, he swears), but watching those two together… he'd been sure Travis was about to make another notch on the bedpost. The guy was so smooth, even Mike could give him that, that the blonde ex-lawyer who'd just joined the LAPD never even suspected he was being hit on.

It was a clear shot across the bullpen to the break-room from his office view wise, so he could see every move the two made even if he couldn't hear them. Travis had started the food fight, but surprisingly Wesley had joined in. Looking at the uptight, rule abiding man it was hard to see him partaking in a food fight, but it happened. In the month that Mitchell had worked with them he had never so much as shaken anyone's hand or touched anybody else's stuff. Some people thought it was rude, but on his medical sheet he'd turned in to the office it said he took medication for that obsessive-compulsive disorder. He could be forgiven for not touching people in this case.

Anyway, the point was that Wes had never touched anybody, but he gladly touched Travis. Rubbing food into his curly hair and not even wincing when the brunette did the same. At the end of the fight they both had run off in the same direction and left the mess behind while Mike yelled at them and for a mop.

Idiots.

After the explosion that was Travis's last partnership, Mike almost wanted to send him down to narcotics. He got along with the dogs and that was where his old mentor was, after all. But Wesley had helped him solve the Lady Killer case, and they did get along awful well for non-partners. Mike himself had gotten on great with his old partner, before the asshat had gone and got himself shot and retired early. People these days just couldn't take a shot to the groin anymore. It wasn't even like it was anything damaging, he still had all his parts but…

Anyway, he decided against his own better judgment and let them work together for a few 'trial' cases. You know, one of those thirty day things that companies let you try their product for… only with detectives and murder-suicides.

They were terrific. Phenomenal. The most dynamic duo since Harley and the Joker. They were even destructive like those two—in their first week they blew up a squad car, emerged laughing, and then fell off a bridge. Well, wrestled off a bridge. It was a low-line bridge, so did that count? They did fall into some pretty deep puddles below the bridge. He got pictures.

Weirdly enough, they had never grown out of the wrestling in public places thing. If it wasn't wrestling, though, it was actual fist fights. Mike swore it was like having the two toddler children he and his wife never had. Wes had even bit Travis once, right after a giant hug shared when they got shot at. It was funny as hell, when he'd arrived, to see them hugging one minute but then Travis tried grope Wes—he'd been laughing, but still… fishy. The blonde couldn't escape his partner's arms in time so he bit him.

Toddlers. Idiots. All of them.

The years went by and the hugs decreased in number, but the touches certainly didn't. Pats on the back, slaps to the shoulder, and every other thing you'd ever seen before was coming out in their interactions. Their big fight surprised everyone, most of all Mike. Seeing Wes point that gun at Travis, his hand shaking and his eyes just totally blank had been shocking. Nobody moved, nobody breathed. Everyone stared.

But Wes had put the gun down, flat on the desk, and just walked out. The sigh of relief in the building was massive, but Travis's strides out the door after his partner were even bigger. That gun and those strides were the things that made him put them in couples counseling.

Two weeks of therapy went by and they weren't as mean to each other.

A month went by and they stopped hitting each other.

Six weeks came and passed and they were well on their way to being normal again—touching and hugging and carrying on. Even Emma had noticed how often they touched, but then it wasn't like it was a department secret that the top detective team was locked in the closet together. Well, he wasn't quite sure if they were in the closet. Mike had always thought he had a good gaydar, and Wes definitely pinged at least a little bit. Travis was obviously bisexual—he was flirting with Wes those first few days and Mike had seen him with a few guys before.

Just sitting and watching them out in the parking lot from his window was like Christmas. His kids finally stopped fighting. Hmm. If they were his kids then their relationship was incestual… he'd have to rethink his analogy. Or maybe not, Supernatural was one of his wife's favorite shows, after all.

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The stake out was the perfect chance to spend some time with his boys. He knocked on the door cheerfully and cradled the near beer and chicken like babies in his arm. When they had been younger, Mike and his partner Jesse had been able to put away two buckets each along with a twelve pack of beer split between them. Good times.

As soon as he stepped in he was impressed at how well they were getting along. Keeping the place clean, watching with the telescope and watching the game? This was a great bonding environment. In the reflection of the window he watched them rock-paper-scissors over who had to go get more supplies—it warmed his heart to know they fought about who got to spend more time with him. Ah, they kept his heart young.

They gave each other half hugs on the way out the door and when a neighbor walked by Travis even kissed Wes on the cheek, earning a cheap shot to the collarbone. That's right, they were pretending to be gay—a good cover story. To top it off, Travis even slapped Wes's ass on the way out, though the blonde didn't react to that one. Huh. Must've been normal. Wes was totally Liz.

While he and Wes shared stories of their parentage—ah bonding—he felt he got really close to Wesley when they were alone. Wes did look a little spooked to be without his partner, but they practically lived in each other's pockets so that was to be expected. When he'd married Helen it had been weird to be without her when he went out with Jesse, but Jesse and he had never shared the closeness of Travis and Wes. And by closeness, he meant a bed. It was so obvious.

Mike spotted the pizza boy and alerted Wes, who automatically took off to help Travis. He muttered something about being a damsel in distress before he left, grabbing a can of mace as well as his gun and a pen on the way out.

When they got back a little later, Wes was penless and Travis was grinning, throwing an arm around Wes's neck. Still, after all these years, Wes only let Travis touch him as much as anyone else. The few times he'd met Alex the girl had rarely touched Wes, stating that he didn't like to be touched. Another clue about the brunette and his relationship.

The chief was convinced it wouldn't be long now before the right paperwork was coming across his desk. If it didn't, he would actually have to hit the two in the face and tell them to calm down the flames if they didn't want to be caught. He wouldn't report them but they had to play their part at least a little.

Mike Sutton couldn't do all the work, could he?


	6. Travis and Wes

Settling in to watch the game with Travis—christening his apartment after he'd already owned it for a month—was familiar. They'd done this with every dwelling each of them had inhabited. When Wes and Alex finally settled on a house after Travis and he had become partners, Travis had come over and, while there was no football or baseball on, they'd watched Wimbledon.

When Wes had moved into the hotel, Travis had come over and they watched the Yankees beat the Red Sox again. And when Travis had moved out of that weird little trailer and into the apartment, of course Wes was there. Tonight they were watching the pre-season Cowboys-Raiders game—take a guess on who would win. Now, don't tell Travis this, but the Raiders were awful. He was a die-hard fan, though, so Wes kept his mouth shut.

Back when he still lived with Alex, Travis had always sat next to him just like he did now, only his arm… had never been behind him. Strange, but whatever.

Halfway through the game, almost to halftime with about 9 seconds left, the Raiders actually one-upped the Cowboys. Travis was so excited that he hugged Wes. The blonde sat there for a second in stony silence while the oblivious brunette bounced up and down excitedly, and then he joined in the hug by wrapping his hands around Travis's shoulder blades.

Halftime sucked. The little teeny-boppers they had doing the show were tone-deaf and played noise, not music. Even Travis muted the TV when they came on. They refreshed on chips, dip and beer waiting for the hiatus to end. Wes sat back down on the couch and stared at the ceiling with his head against the back of the sofa. Suddenly Travis's head appeared where the popcorn ceiling used to be.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he said obnoxiously, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touched Wes's nose.

"Your face, obviously. Why are you so close?"

"All the better to see your pretty eyes, oh Blonde One."

Wes quickly pushed his head further into the cushion so he could have space to blow a quick stream of air into Travis's nose. It worked, the brunette snorted and flung himself back into a standing position.

"What the hell, man?"

The blonde just shrugged and scooted over, un-muting the TV when it went off the halftime show. Travis crashed down next to him, so close their thighs touched, and put a hand on his knee instead of behind him. This was a much more familiar touch, so Wes gratefully settled back into the comfortable sofa cushion. It was so weird; the Raiders were winning by three points—totally unprecedented. Just like Travis's thumb and the way it was making his kneecap tingle.

Despite himself, Wes felt his energy draining faster and faster with the combined effort of beer, chips, and the soothing motion of Travis's hand on him. This week they'd bagged a couple of robbers and had to fill out tons of paperwork, no doubt backlog from the last few cases. Needless to say, Wes was exhausted.

Truthfully, he didn't remember falling asleep, much less snuggling in to Travis's side. But that's how he woke up. The TV was on an infomercial for some type of blender for children or something, set to low, the lights were off, and his head was tucked into his partner's neck with his legs over the others. If anyone were to walk in right now they would think they were cuddling. It wasn't unpleasant, per say, to pretend that he and Travis were dating but… no.

He'd been without friendly human contact in this fashion for so long, missed it for so long that he really didn't want to move. So he didn't. If anything, he wrapped his free arm more securely around Travis's torso and went back to sleep. Nodding back off, Wes could have sworn right then that Travis had grinned against his scalp and muttered to himself what sounded like, 'two points to me.'

Definitely suspicious.

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Waking up had been fun. Untangling himself from Travis had not been. To make up for slamming the heel of his hand onto the satellite's power button and making the TV go all loud and static-y, Wes volunteered to make breakfast. Hooray for Saturdays.

Unfortunately, Travis didn't have anything fit to make something from scratch, so Wes made due with some boxed pancake mix. He had vanilla, though. Thank God for small miracles. The brunette sat on island counter in the middle of the kitchen, watching Wes intently as he made a thick stack of pancakes, all golden brown. Wes threw a glance over his shoulder to see what had his partner so entranced that he couldn't talk, and found that his eyes were resting well below acceptable range. The blonde blushed and turned back around, choosing not to say anything. He could hear the smile in Travis's voice though, that said he knew he had seen.

"Aw, honey, you make such a pretty picture in my kitchen, cooking for me," he teased.

"I did it as a make-up present. Don't get used to it."

"But it would be so easy to do that. I kind of want to get used to it…"

Again, the chef chose not to respond. What was he supposed to say to things like that?

And then all hell broke loose. Or at least, mini-hell. Arms were around his waist. Arms. Around. His. Waist. Travis's arms.

"What are you doing, now?" he questioned, slightly breathlessly. This was… too personal to just be the friends they were. Because that's all they were and would ever be… friends. Nothing more, nothing less than friends could ever come from this stuff.

"Watching you cook," Travis said, a little too casually. He had to know what he was doing to Wes. He had to.

"Does that require touching me?"

"At this point? Yes. I can see what you are doing perfectly now."

Wes sighed and put the pan in the sink, trying and failing to escape the brunette's arms. The single plate with the giant mound of pancakes now seemed so far away from his prison.

"I'm done cooking now; can you let of me?"

Did Travis just sniff him? Yeah. Yeah he did. There was no disguising the second sniff.

"What the hell are you doing?" one valiant effort and a push later, Wes had them separated by the island.

"Well I was trying to see what that smell you're wearing is, but obviously that's a problem," no. No, no, no. Travis could not be hitting on him now, not after he'd just decided that they were supposed to be friends only. Maybe Travis didn't like all the touching they'd been doing lately? He'd stop. He'd stop it all if it meant Travis wouldn't play with him like this. Obliviousness was going to be key, here, it seemed.

"Okay, but don't do that. It makes the hair on my neck stand on end," he replied, and watched the small, barely there smirk dawn on Travis's face.

They settled at the kitchen table and slowly feasted on an entire box of pancake mix. 

Wes had been planning on going home, really he had, but Travis somehow suckered him into watching the crappy daytime TV. Weird things like ancient episodes of Roseanne and Family Matters were on. It was nauseating. They put it on Law and Order: SVU before resuming their places on the couch. Wes made sure they weren't touching this time—strangely, Travis looked disappointed.

After a while of Ice Tea muttering about child molesters, Travis pulled out his phone and started giggling. Intrigued, Wes moved a little closer at his beckoning.

He realized only afterwards that he'd been tricked.

The brunette's hand flew out and snagged him by the back of his shirt—an old t-shirt from law school that had a gavel smashing a graffitied 'LAW'. He was pulled over Travis's lap and was underneath him in seconds, too little time to react. Damn it all.

Crystalline blue eyes looked into darkened aqua, and that's when Wes knew he was in some deep shit. His partner knelt over him, settled between his splayed legs, and held him down by the hips. Wes swallowed uncertainly, his protest dying on his lips while he looked up into Travis's unblinking eyes.

"You know something weird?" Travis started; his thumb moving in that same pattern it had last night on Wes's knee. It always managed to relax him.

"What?" Wes said back, hardly daring to breathe.

"Nearly everyone at the station thinks we're dating. Including the Captain. And the therapy group, and Alex… but you can't seem to get it into your thick head that its true," Wes stuttered a little until Travis leaned in and gave him a long, chaste kiss that was no deeper than a kiddy pool.

"Shh. Let me finish. Think about it Wes. We are a couple in every way that matters except for sex. We touch all the time, we're the one both of us talks to most, we tell each other everything, we've met our families… We are the center of each other's worlds. I know you see it. Don't deny it," He stopped Wes before the blonde could even start to say something.

"I want… I want to be a couple in every way, including sex, Wes. I want that with you, and I know you do with me. You can't hide it."

And Travis watched his partner swallow thickly for a second time, closing his eyes against the brunette's penetrating look. When he reopened them, he quickly leaned up and grabbed two handfuls of hair and locked his lips onto the others.

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When they finally stopped acquainting themselves with each other's bodies, they sat at the kitchen table and ate some Chinese take-out—with forks because Wes couldn't, for the life of him, learn how to use chopsticks.

The skinnier one stared at his food for a moment while Travis slurped up some noodles. He was kind of confused because he was positive he wasn't the only dumbass in this relationship—how could Travis have known about them before Wes did? It really didn't make sense. Unless…

"So who told you?"

"Randi."

Ah. So that was that.


End file.
